


The Snow Angel

by spandwiches



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Child Neglect, Childhood Memories, Dean's Idea of Heaven, Flying, Led Zeppelin Covers, M/M, Potential Hypothermia, Really Awful Christmas Casserole, Snow, Snow Angels, Swearing, The Snowman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 10:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13029546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spandwiches/pseuds/spandwiches
Summary: Even as an adult Dean has nightmares, although the dream that haunts him most might actually be his happiest memory. He longs to recapture the emotions he experienced that night long ago in the snow, but can he overcome the cynicism and hang ups of adulthood in order to feel them again?A star lit, snowy Christmas Eve certainly helps, but it might be the Angel with eyes like moonlight that Dean really needs to make the dream once again become a reality, if it ever actually was one.Inspired by the Raymond Briggs story/animation,The Snowman.





	The Snow Angel

[](https://imgur.com/vxMtSZJ)

An unwelcome blast of cold air brought Dean back to full consciousness. He hadn’t been asleep, more just resting his eyes. It had been a long day of driving in bad conditions through foul winter weather. A long day following a night of less sleep than usual. Now four bulging paper grocery bags were being unceremoniously dumped on the Impala’s back seat before the door was closed once more, and a second later a second wave of cold was followed by a grinning Sam, who took his place in the passenger seat. He dusted a few flakes of snow off his hair.

“All done?”

“All done.”

“Good, let’s get back to the Bunker so I can get out of these stinking clothes. Who knew ghoul guts smelled so bad.” Dean grimaced as he sniffed at his jacket sleeve.

“You could’ve showered before we checked out of the motel, Dean.”

Dean chose not to acknowledge the bitch face he knew Sam would be wearing, along with a clean, smell-free set of clothes that he had indeed put on post-shower and pre-motel check out.

“Not all of us need to Pantene twice daily, Sammy. Anyway, I wanted to get on the road so we’d make it back before dark.” He could feel Sam trying to read him and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Why, because it’s Christmas eve?”

“Because it’s bad enough driving through this shit in the light, that’s why. Plus that place was weird as Hell. Fuck Christmas Eve.”

“Dean!”

Now he did look over at his outraged brother. “What, Sam? It’s the same as any other day. Well, any day that I’m covered in stinking undead goo and forced to drive ten hours through a blizzard after an unholy early morning hunt.”

Sam’s eye roll wasn’t audible but Dean knew it had happened anyway. “The ritual had to be performed once they’d returned to the den after feeding, but before sunrise. The lore is very precise on the timing in order for the banishment to work properly.”

“You mean the _explosion_ , Sammy. They weren’t banished so much as went kabloom.”

“There was nothing about excretion in any of the texts, Dean. I would have warned your to move back if I’d known.”

Dean grunted by way of response.

“Anyway, I thought I’d make something special for dinner, since it’s Christmas Eve and all. Despite you being in denial.”

“I’m not in denial.” Dean huffed.

“Whatever, Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-

Sam had at least remained quiet for the rest of the drive, and before long Dean was pulling the Impala into the Men of Letters garage, still by the light of day.

“Let’s leave the gear for now,” Sam suggested as they got out of the car. “You go shower; I’ll get started on the food. We can deal with this later, once we’ve eaten.”

“No argument from me.” Dean stretched out against the cool black metal, mentally promising to come back and take care of his Baby as soon as he’d done taking care of himself. He hated to leave his car caked in ice and gritting salt, but it really had been a long day. His stomach was growling and he stank something awful.

Sam retrieved the grocery bags and moved towards the kitchen, while Dean headed straight for the showers. 

-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-

“I was bracing myself for rabbit food or sommin’, but casserole, Sammy?” Dean looked suspiciously at the steaming dish in front of him.

“It’s Christmas casserole! Don’t you remember?”

Dean looked blankly up at his moose of brother, who was beaming down at him.

“I remembered it as we were driving back. I saw a sign for the Black Hills National Forest and remembered the holiday we’d spent up at that cabin.”

Dean grimaced, the memory flooding back into his mind all too clearly. “Ugh. I can’t believe Dad had the balls to leave us a twenty for food. Like there was a store in a ten mile radius, let alone one that would be open on Christmas Eve.”

“You kept it though, didn’t you?” Sam asked, sitting down and poking at the dish with one of the Bunker’s silver serving spoons baring the Men of Letters insignia.

“Hell yes. Wasn’t often Dad left cash for us, Christmas or not.” The brothers fell silent momentarily in a slightly tense way that always accompanied memories of their father.

Dean was the first to break. “Wait. Holy shit, Sammy. _That_ Christmas casserole. It was barely edible.” He looked a little more carefully at the serving Sam was just now heaping on the plate in front of him.

“It wasn’t that bad, Dean. It checked off all the major food groups.” Sam served himself a portion after adding a second spoonful to Dean’s plate.

“Huh, yeah. I pretty much threw in everything I could find - which was everything that’d been on sale at the grocery store in the last town we’d driven through: couple cans of white turkey meat, some condensed mushroom soup, frozen green beans…”

“…and cornflakes” they said in unison, grinning across at each other.

“Well,” Sam picked up his fork and took an experimental mouthful, pausing to chew before he finished his thought, “I used rotisserie turkey in place of the canned, fresh green beans, and made the mushroom sauce from scratch.”

By this point Dean was chewing on a generous forkful. “S’good, Sammy.”

“The cornflakes are still just cornflakes though.”

“That’s the best part!” Dean smiled appreciatively at his brother. The food really was good. “Thank’s Sam. I needed this.”

“You’re welcome, Dean. Merry Christmas.”

“Easy man, let’s not jump the gun and jinx tomorrow when we just got home.” It wouldn’t be the first Christmas day they’d spent on a job, but Dean would gladly be otherwise occupied tomorrow if at all possible, especially if it happened to involve a measure of inebriation.

They ate in silence for several minutes, enjoying the food and the quiet hum of the Bunker’s oversized appliances.

“Wasn’t that the same year you had that angel dream?”

“Gotta be more specific, Sammy. You know I got a thing for girls dressed up in nothing but feathers.”

“Ugh. You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” 

Of course Dean knew exactly the dream Sam was talking about. Though he’d never been entirely willing to admit it was a mere dream. The memory was as strong now as it had been all those years ago, waking up on Christmas morning and looking out the cabin window at the fresh layer of snow blanketing the world. The loss he felt at that moment hadn’t lessened any over the years either. He could feel the grief of his eight, or maybe nine year old self as he’d run outside with bare feet and knelt at the spot where the angel had lain in the snow the night before

His angel.

He still felt the numbness that had consumed him from the inside out; feeling the pain in his heart and mind long before noticing it in his bare toes or arms.

“Dean? You okay?”

He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up.

“Sorry, Sammy. Thinking about what still needs to get done out in the garage.” He put his hand on Sam’s shoulder when the other man began to stand up. “I’ll get the gear, you already did all this. Plus I want to get Baby cleaned up.” Dean picked up his fork and plate and carried them over to the sink, feeling his brother watching him, seeing through his deflection.

“Dean, I didn’t mean to–“

“Nah, ’s okay. I guess it might’ve been that year.” He lent against the sink and took a few steadying breaths. “Gonna go deal with the gear and stuff. Thanks for dinner, Sammy.” Dean made a hasty retreat for the sanctuary of the garage and physical work.

-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-

This really wasn’t bad, as places to be dumped while their Dad was on a hunt went. Sure, it was miles from anywhere, tucked in a clearing of trees deep in the Black Hills national forest near the Wyoming and South Dakota state border, but the cabin looked like something out of one of Sammy’s picture books and it wasn’t as ramshackle as some of the places John sometimes had them stay in. There was hot running water, a wood burner, and both the stove top and the oven seemed to be fully functional. There was even a small but working television.

“You boys need to stay within site of the house, ya hear.” John was loading his gear into the trunk of the Impala, the glossy black paintwork standing out against the snowy landscape. “And don’t keep Sammy outside too long neither. It’s not gonna quit snowing any time soon and forecast says it’s gonna stay near zero.” He tugged his collar a little higher as if only just now registering the frigid temperature.

“Yes, sir.” Dean stood patiently beside the big black car, waiting for his dad to take the last of the boxes from his outstretched arms before retreating back to where Sam was waiting in the warmth of the doorway.

“Shouldn’t be a hard job. Don’t expect it’ll keep me out more than a day.” John took the last box from Dean and put his big gloved hand on Dean’s head. “Now get back in and take care of your brother.” He turned Dean about and nudged him back towards the cabin, opening the car door and sliding inside.

The engine started with a rumbling growl that made Dean insides tingle, and he stood with an arm round his little brother as they watched their dad drive off down the gravel road, the chrome of the Impala’s bumper slowly disappearing into the trees.

“Come on, Sammy! Let’s get all our layers on and come back out to play.” Dean hustled the kid inside to get dressed.

-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-

It was glorious in the snow. It was deep and white, and just the right mix of dry and wet, so that the snowballs they tossed at one another didn’t sting too bad, but the big balls they rolled to build a snowman held together without crumbling.

They made patterns with their footprints and sticks they found. They threw snowballs at a target . They lay down, flapping their arms and legs and made snow angels. They played until their noses were red and the wet from the flakes that had snuck down their necks and into their gloves grew uncomfortably cold.

-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-

Inside the little cabin, Dean filled the tub with hot water while Sam pulled off his wet layers. Then while Sammy warmed up in the bath, he dug around in the kitchen throwing whatever supplies he could find into a big casserole dish and setting it to bake before laying all their clothes in front of the wood stove to dry out. 

Once Sammy was warm and clean, Dean dried the kid off and put him in pjs, before sitting him in front of some cartoons while he washed himself off in the cooling bath water, shook dry and pulled on his sweats. 

“Come eat, Sammy! Food’s done.”

“Can’t we eat in front of the TV? Please, Dean?”

So Dean had indulgently dished up and brought two bowls through to the living room.

“Eeeew. What even is this? It looks like baby mush.”

“It’s casserole, Sammy.”

“I don’t like casserole.”

“Ah, but this is _Christmas_ casserole.”

“What makes it Christmas casserole?”

“Well, it has all the parts of a Christmas dinner in it, that’s what.”

“But there’s no cornflakes in Christmas dinner.”

“That’s in place of the bread they use to stuff the turkey with. Coz you eat that for breakfast too, right? Plus it adds crunch.”

Sam took a cautious bite and chewed vigorously before swallowing.

“See, ’s good, right?”

“Yeah, okay. I guess I do like _Christmas_ casserole.”

“Atta boy, Sammy! Now eat up.”

-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-

After Sam was in bed and Dean had cleaned up in the kitchen, he sat by the wood stove, making sure there were enough logs inside to keep the cabin warm through the night. It was so quiet and still here now that the TV was off. Only the spitting of the fire and the buzz of the refrigerator kept Dean company. He went to the door and opened it, braving the icy air that wrapped around him. He listened hard for any sound of the Impala’s engine, heralding his dad’s return, but heard nothing other than the trees gently stirring from an occasional gust of wind.

It had stopped snowing. And Dean gazed up at a midnight blue sky dusted with a billion stars. It was beautiful.

He stood until he started to shiver from the cold and then came back inside and closed the door behind him. It wasn’t particularly late, maybe a little before nine, but there wasn’t a whole lot to do, and the warmth of bed was a strong draw. He quickly brushed his teeth, used the toilet, and then he was climbing into the big bed where Sammy was already sleeping peacefully. Dean smiled as Sammy unconsciously snuggled into his side. Usually he was irritated by the kid when they had to share a bed, but right now it was nice to have the heat the little body radiated. It didn’t take long for Dean to drift off into a peaceful sleep.

-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-

Dean couldn’t be sure of what time it was when he woke up. It was obviously still night as Sam was sound asleep beside him and the room was dark. Had John returned yet?

He carefully untangled himself from the warmth of his brother and moved silently across to the window, his bare feet making no sound on the worn wood floorboards. He pulled the drapes hanging over the small window aside and peered out into the dark, searching for a sign that his Dad had returned; footprints in the snow, a glimpse of the Impala parked at the side of the house maybe.

Nothing. The world seemed as cold and as still as it had done when he’d left it earlier, the woods dark and the sky above them shining with starlight. A large white moon had risen and it cast a pale light across the snow. 

Dean could make out the snow man they’d built that afternoon, and could see where the snow was brushed aside to form the outline of the snow angel. It looked strangely solid in the moonlight, almost like a real figure was lying there in the big hollow, snow brushing up against their sides. 

He craned forward trying to make it out more clearly. If he stood on tiptoes and twisted just so he found he could get a better angle to see the spot. That really did look like someone lying in the snow, not just an empty patch of ground amidst the white. But how?

Oh god, what if his dad had parked on the other side of the cabin and walked around. He could have slipped on an icy patch and fallen into that opening. John could be lying freezing out there right now.

Dean dashed out the room to the main living area, pushing his feet into boots and pulling on a flannel shirt hanging on the door knob, before turning it and quietly exiting the house to go investigate. He hadn’t bothered to tie the laces and the deep snow spilled over the tops of his boots down the sides. Didn’t matter. He would either find his dad or quickly go back inside to feel silly about his overactive imagination. He had to stop listening to all those stories their Uncle Bobby told them about things that went bump in the night. 

The snow crunched softly underfoot as he walked in the direction of the snow angel. He must have been imagining it. This would definitely have been a strange route for John to take regardless of where he’d put the Impala. Still, he’d come this far, Dean felt like he might as well just go see and put his mind to rest. He was almost all the way across now, and from this angle, with the snowman in the way, it was harder to see the snow angel clearly until he was almost right on it. 

Holy shit.

The man lay flat on his back, arms spread wide, a tan coat splayed out beneath him filling the hollow Dean’s flailing legs had made in the deep snow that afternoon. The man’s dark hair was messy as he gazed up at the star filled sky.

“Hello, Dean.”

How the hell did this guy know his name? Who was he anyway, lying here in the middle of the night? Had John asked him to come?

He sat up, and Dean was fixed by a pair of eyes that seemed to shine with all the light of the moon. 

“Who– w-what? Why are you here?” was the question he eventually settled on.

“I am Castiel. You called for me. So here I am.”

“Did Dad send you?”

“John? No. I was assigned to you at your mother’s request.”

“My mother’s gone.” Dean said vehemently.

“I am an Angel of the Lord, Dean. And your mother, Mary, is very much present in Heaven. But I believe you know that, in your soul.” He cocked his head to one side slightly, like an animal might as it considered you. It settled Dean for some reason.

“So why is an angel visiting me?”

“I told you, Dean. You called for me.”

Dean wrinkled his forehead up in a questioning scowl. “Nuh-uh.”

Castiel gestured to the hollow shape that he remained sitting in. “I heard your prayer as you lay here. The silhouette acts as an amplifier, so it came through very clearly. You wished for an angel to make you a real Christmas. And here I am.”

It was true that as he’d lain on the cold ground, pushing the snow beneath him with arms and legs to create the hollow shape of the snow angel, that he’d imagined there could be such things as angels. That they could come and whisk him away from the cold and isolation of the cold and the cabin. That could keep him and Sam safe, watch over them when they were left alone by John. Maybe they could make Christmas something joyous, something meaningful, not just another winter’s day. But how could this guy know that?

“You don’t look like an angel. You don’t even have wings.”

“This vessel is not my true form, I must assume it while I am here as it would damage you to see me as I really am. And likewise my wings are not in this plane of reality, but, I assure you are very much real. Come.” Castiel stood up to his full height and held out his hand.

He was a big guy. Probably as tall as his Dad, and whilst not as built as John Winchester, was definitely muscular in a more subtle way. Dean hesitated. This was just some guy, in the woods, at night. Sam was still in the cabin asleep. Alone. Yet this felt right. Safe. He just knew. So he reached out and took his hand. Castiel. Angel of the Lord.

He looked up and Castiel was looking down at him, those vivid blue eyes shining with their own strange light.

“Are you ready, Dean?”

And suddenly he was. Something about the stars sparkling in the clear night, the moon beaming beatifically down on the soft deep snow, the warmth of Castiel’s big hand around his own; it felt right, it felt safe and Dean suddenly felt like he could be anyone, do anything, go anywhere.

He nodded.

There was a sudden flurry of motion, or rather the sensation of motion. Dean realized that his body remained still, his limbs in much the same position as they’d been a moment ago. Only now he was looking down at the dark world below slipping silently past at a significant speed. He was no longer part of that world, he felt, but rather that his conscious was expanding, becoming one with the brightness and vastness of the sky, stars and moonlight swirling around him. 

Around them. He wasn’t alone in this journey, Castiel was large and solid beside him. The expanse of the universe opening up before him made him shiver as much as the cold night air, and he felt Castiel move closer to him, shielding him and radiating warmth. Dean closed his eyes and breathed it all in: the warmth, the security, the starlight, the adventure, the vastness of it all.

When he opened his eyes, Dean found they were somewhere else. Inside, a room, no, a bar. Booths lined each wall, and the bar at one end faced a low stage at the other. There were people sat at the tables drinking and chatting quietly, the sound of the band on stage playing at a comfortable level in the background. It was kind of nice.

“We’re in a bar?”

Castiel lowered his head to meet Dean’s gaze. “We’re in Heaven.”

Before Dean could protest that he didn’t believe for one minute that this could possibly be Heaven, they were suddenly surrounded by a group of patrons.

“Dean-O!” 

A man with a wide, kind smile and mischievous eyes had been the one to speak, clapping Dean affectionately on the shoulder as he did so.

A few others stood around him, looking curiously at Dean, though he felt like the attention of the whole room had shifted focus onto him. The attention made him shift nervously and he felt Castiel hover protectively behind him.

“Dean,” Castiel’s deep voice was reassuring and helped ground him, “this is the Archangel Gabriel. And Gabriel, this is–“

“Yes, yes, Cassie, we know. Dean Winchester. The Righteous Man. Boy Wonder. And you can call me Gabe like everyone else here does. Cassie is always so formal about these things; using my full title like something out of a nativity play, makes me sound so archaic!”

“I think you’re confused. The Boy Wonder is Robin. I’m more of a Batman.”

Gabe threw back his head and laughed. “Oh Cassie! A live one. Got a little sass, this guy. Excellent. This is excellent. He’ll keep you on your pretty little toes for sure, and we’ll definitely have some fun with this one. I heartily approve.” And before Dean could reply, the strange man had unwrapped a candy, popped it in his mouth, and headed off towards the bar.

“Don’t mind Gabe,” said a younger looking man, with a flop of blonde hair and what looked like the uniform from a fast food joint, “he likes to meddle. Rile things up, but he’s pretty harmless really. I’m Samandriel. Can we get you a drink? A soda or something?”

“Sure. Soda would be great. Thanks.”

Samandriel nodded his headed and followed Gabriel in the direction of the bar. 

There followed a flood of questions and introductions, which Dean struggled to keep track of and mainly responded to with nods and grunts. At some point he was handed a glass of soda, which helped to deflect the onslaught of greetings a little, but it wasn’t until he noticed that the music had changed that he was able to escape.

“Hey. this is Zepp!” he told Castiel.

_Many dreams come true, and some have silver linings  
I live for my dream, and a pocket full of gold ___

__“Would you like to dance, Dean?”_ _

__He couldn’t be sure if Castiel was being serious or not, but looking up he saw that the man’s head was tilted to the side in that earnest questioning way he seemed to have._ _

__“I’m not really sure you ‘dance’ to Led Zeppelin, usually Sammy and I just rock out and play air guitar til Dad tells us to quit goofin’ around.” Dean smiled at his memories of him and Sam head banging in the back of the Impala, John up front, shaking his heading at their antics and warning them not to distract him from driving._ _

__“Well,” Castiel’s voice drew Dean’s focus back to the bar and the man standing before him, “this is the time to ‘goof around’ as much as you’d like. See?” he gestured around and Dean realized that several of the patrons were up close to the stage now, swaying and bouncing in time to the rhythm and acting much like he and Sam did listening to this song in the back of the car._ _

__“Who are these people, anyway?” he asked._ _

__“Not people.”_ _

__Dean looked up curiously at the answer and Castiel met his confused look with that strangely inquiring head tilt of his._ _

__“Angels. They are not people, Dean, they’re angels, like I am. This is their home; Heaven.”_ _

__“But they look like people. You look like a man. A boring man who works in a bank or somethin’.”_ _

__Castiel coughed rather pointedly._ _

__“No offense, or anything. But you kinda do.”_ _

__“We don’t choose our vessels, Dean. Usually we don’t require them unless we have business on Earth, but since it would harm you to see us as we truly are, tonight we must make use of them. Plus some enjoy what they believe are certain benefits to the human form at an event such as this. Is it really that bad?”_ _

__“Huh?” Dean snapped his focus away from the band, who were finishing up Over the Hills and Far Away, and back to Castiel who was gesturing at his appearance._ _

__“The suit and coat are pretty stiff, but I guess you’d be kind of cool in regular clothes.”_ _

__“These are not regular?”_ _

__“For a boring bank guy, maybe. But like a rockstar, or maybe a superhero - when he’s not in his cape and that - but just wearing his everyday clothes; he’d probably wear old jeans, and sneakers. And a band’s shirt under a sweater or flannel maybe.”_ _

__“I should get a t-shirt from a band?”_ _

__“Yeah, like Zepp, or Motorhead or something. You could pull off Bowie too probably. You’ve got cool eyes like he does. Not weird-cool like his. Yours are more just straight up cool. They look like you have moonlight shining behind them.” He blushed slightly, realizing what he was saying and quickly shut up._ _

__“Human fashion is very mysterious.” Castiel’s brow was crinkled in confusion which made Dean laugh and feel instantly better._ _

__“Nah, man, you just have to be comfortable and go with the classics. I can show you.”_ _

__“Thank you, Dean. I’d like that.”_ _

__The boy beamed up at the angel beside him, feeling pleased that an adult was willing to take his opinion seriously. Castiel smiled back, and laid a big hand on Dean’s head._ _

__“Come. There is someone I would like you to meet.”_ _

__He gently steered Dean through the crowd to where the singer of the band was throwing ‘hey’s’ and ‘you’s’ back and forth with the guitarist, before singing _get off of my cloud_ , much to the apparent delight of the watching crowd._ _

__They stood at the side of the stage watching as the band finished up the song and the singer announced they would be taking a short intermission. He was a kindly looking guy, with a scruffy beard and mousy hair that seemed to stick out at every angle._ _

__“Dean Winchester!” He held his arms out wide, his eyes crinkling as he grinned broadly._ _

__Dean looked questioningly at Castiel, who nodded in reassurance._ _

__“Glad to see you here, my boy. How are you enjoying it? Groovy joint, huh? Rockin’ music, good times. What d’you think of the band?”_ _

__Dean nodded shyly. “Yes, Sir. Band’s really good. I like that Led Zeppelin cover.”_ _

__“Ah, but it’s not your favorite is it? We’ll do Ramble On for you before it’s time to leave. Sound good?”_ _

__“Yeah, but how’d you know-“_ _

__“Dean, Dean. I know all, I see all. One of the benefits of being God and all. Plus you do hum it a lot.”_ _

__“Heh, yeah, Sammy always complains. Wait, what? Who d’ya say-” Dean was interrupted by a dismissive wave of the guy’s hand._ _

__“Yes, yes, let’s not go into all that now. Good kid, Sam. Both of you Winchester boys. I know you two are going to grow up right. Going to make me proud. Make us all so proud.”_ _

__“Er, thank you, G-, er, Sir. I guess.”_ _

__“No, no. No Sirs. Save that for your father. Chuck, I am just Chuck here. But I’m forgetting the most important thing aren’t I? Castiel, do you have it?”_ _

__They both looked at the angel, who nodded as he rummaged in one of the large pockets in his coat before eventually finding the item in question and handing it to Chuck._ _

__It turned out to be some kind of carved metal hanging on a leather cord._ _

__“Dean, this is for you. It will guide you back to me, should you have need.” He gently placed the cord around Dean’s neck. The metal hung heavy and cold at his sternum._ _

__“Thank you, S- Chuck.”_ _

__“Thank Castiel, not me. He located the amulet and is responsible for the spell work.”_ _

__Dean’s hand went up to inspect the trinket more carefully. It was an unusual looking head, made of a shiny metal. Bronze maybe. It was strange, but pretty cool looking really. He looked up at Castiel, whose head was bowed modestly, not really knowing how to thank him. Because this was obviously something far more powerful than a piece of mere jewelry, Dean knew that, even if he didn’t really understand what Chuck had said it could do. He took Castiel’s hand._ _

__“I’ll always wear it,” he said quietly, and felt his hand squeezed gently in response._ _

__“Well,” Chuck interrupted their unspoken communication, “better get back up there and finish the set. This a demanding crowd, you know!” He stood up and put one arm around Dean, squeezing him to his side briefly. “A pleasure to meet you, Dean, for sure. And I will see you… around. You’ll stay for a couple more songs, I hope?” And with a jaunty salute, he headed back up the few steps to the stage and back to the microphone with the band reassembled behind him._ _

__“Can we?” Dean looked up at Castiel inquiringly._ _

__“I believe we have a little more time, yes.”_ _

__They stayed at the side of the stage, watching God sing a sassy version of One of These Nights, before running it into the promised Ramble On. Dean hummed along happily, his eyes closed, feeling Castiel’s presence beside him. Chuck didn’t play or sing it exactly like the original; it was slower, and hazy. A little sweeter somehow, but maybe that was the moment._ _

__He was lost in the music then, the next song had begun without him even noticing as he swayed to the rhythms. Every now and again he would reach up to touch the little bronze head hanging at his neck. It made him feel special._ _

__“You are special.”_ _

__He looked up at Castiel, but the angel was looking off across the room, apparently lost in thought and not having said anything. Had Dean imagined him say that? He could have sworn it had been Castiel’s deep voice, but maybe he misheard over the music. As if proving the point, the man looked down at him, a frown making the moonlight in his eyes cloud over._ _

__He bent down to talk closer to Dean’s ear. “It’s time to go.”_ _

__Dean nodded. He wanted to stay longer. Hear the band some more. Maybe get another soda. Talk to more of the angels maybe. Just spend a little longer in Castiel’s reassuring company, feeling like he was special._ _

__Instead he let himself be guided through a few polite goodbyes, and then they were done, walking towards the back door and out in to the night. It was all ending too soon and Dean was stepping close to Castiel, who put one of his long, strong arms around him as if trying to keep them close. To hang on a little longer. Dean reached up and held on to the large hand resting over his shoulder, curling his fingers into Castiel’s._ _

__“Are you ready?”_ _

__He nodded.  
Dean was more prepared this time for the sensation of moving and the sky opening up before him. It was paler now, the stars just dim specks left as the sky lightened, streaks of pink and orange beginning to creep in from what must be the east. Castiel, caught by the rising sunlight, appeared to be glowing with heavenly fire when Dean glanced across at him. He was met with, what seemed to Dean, a slightly sad smile and Castiel pulled him in a little closer to his side, his arm strong across Dean’s back. The tan fabric of the big coat flapped about them both, turning them into one entity as the world slipped past them in a dizzying blur. _ _

__And then it stopped. They were back at the cabin, standing at the front door, the forest still dark but a light beginning to light up the sky above._ _

__“Come on.”_ _

__Castiel opened the door and beckoned for Dean to go in ahead of him._ _

__“It’s late now. Or early, would be more accurate for you. But you need to sleep a little” Castiel said as Dean took of his boots and shirt. “I believe Sam would be distressed to wake and find you absent.”_ _

__“Oh, yeah. Little squirt loves to be the one to poke me awake.”_ _

__Castiel smiled softly at the description. “But I don’t think you mind, really.”_ _

__“Nah. He’s a good kid.”_ _

__“So are you, Dean.”_ _

__Dean looked up at the man with the messy dark hair and the eyes that shone like moonlight. The angel, Castiel, smiling down at him. He tilted his head towards the bedroom in silent command._ _

__They walked together, and stopped in front of the big bed where Sam lay curled up, snuffling slightly as he slept. Dean looked to Castiel again, who nodded in response, waiting quietly while Dean climbed quietly in beside his brother and pulled the covers up._ _

__“Thanks for taking me. For all of it. Cas-“_ _

__“Shhhhh.” A big hand smoothed gently over his hair before Castiel leaned forward and kissed Dean softly on the forehead. “Sleep well, Dean.”_ _

__He hesitated a moment, before turning and walking silently out, pulling the door softly closed after him._ _

__Dean heard the front door open and then shut again with a dull click. He quickly got up and padded across to the window, pushing the curtain aside and putting his face up against the glass to see more clearly. There was still barely any light, the woods keeping the dawn at bay. Still, it was easy enough to make out the man in the long, tan coat walking across the snowy yard. When he stopped, he turned, and Dean could feel, rather than see him smile, before turning away again to lie down once more in the hollow of the snow angel._ _

__He kept watching, trying to make out any details or movement, but the light was changing and it was too difficult to see clearly from the angle of the window. It was cold now in the little room, the heat from the wood burner long ago having dissipated. He stayed by the window, but his eyes were beginning to involuntarily close, his head getting heavy, and Dean shivered a little. A few minutes later he begrudgingly got back into bed. He fell asleep humming Ramble On, the kind smile of a man with dark messy hair and eyes an endless blue were the last thing he thought of as he drifted asleep._ _

__-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-_ _

__“Dean. Dean!”_ _

__Sam was in his face when he opened his eyes. What time was it? Was Dad home? Was it snowing again?_ _

__He must have said, rather than thought the questions as Sam was rapidly answering him. “About seven thirty, I think. And no. He didn’t come home last night. But it’s Christmas day, Dean! And there’s fresh snow! Can we go out and play again, do you think? Please, Dean?”_ _

__But Dean was already up, and headed out of the room, opening the front door and running out into the snow paying no heed to his bare feet or arms._ _

__“Dean!” Sam was calling after him, confused. “Dean! What are you doing? Where are you going, Dean?”_ _

__There was nothing. No angel, no outline. Just deep, fresh snow. Dean sunk down into it, letting the cold overtake him, until he remembered his gift. He instinctively reached up, feeling for the amulet Castiel had given him, but there was just cotton. It wasn’t there. Had it ever been there?_ _

__-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-_ _

__He’d told Sam, passing it off as a vivid dream. A very vivid dream. And maybe it had been._ _

__But it had felt so real. Dean could close his eyes and hear the deep tones of Castiel’s voice, picture the muss of his dark hair. He wasn’t certain though. It was the eyes. Could a man, an angel even, really have eyes full of moonlight? That couldn’t possibly be real. And angels obviously weren’t real either. But why would Dean have dreamed all that? He didn’t even have that good of an imagination. Not for the fluffy stuff, anyway. Still, Sam thought it was a cool story, and laughed at Dean’s description of Heaven and God. “You _would_ imagine Heaven as a rock concert” he said._ _

__Dean didn’t mention Castiel’s eyes._ _

__-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎-❄︎_ _

__It was years later that Sam had given him the amulet. He said he’d found it and it had made him think of Dean. It was the one he’d dreamed of, Dean was sure of it. The same head, the same bronze metal, the same heft and leather cord. Was it just his imagination that wearing it made him feel a little braver, more worthy, righteous?_ _

__He never asked Sam where he’d found it. Or told him that he still wore it every day._ _

__Dean unconsciously moved a hand up to cover the spot where the bronze head rested against his chest beneath his tee shirt. He must have stripped down when he’d got hot cleaning the car. He hadn’t been aware of doing it, so completely wrapped up in the memory of that night._ _

__He was standing, leaning on the roof of the Impala, a chamois in the hand not resting on the amulet. He could see his reflection in the polished black metal, now spotlessly clean and buffed to a high shine. It was slightly shocking to see himself as an adult, not the kid in the snow. So this was who he was now, then. This guy with a day of scruffy beard growth, with dark circles beneath his eyes, hair greasy and spiking out on one side while squashed flat on the other. This was what he’d become. This mess. He could barely identify the levity and wonder he remembered feeling as that kid. Was it still there? Somewhere? Beneath the suspicion, the weariness, the jaded exterior?_ _

__He tossed the chamois back into his car care caddy and snatched up the shirt he’d previously discarded before heading out the side door of the garage._ _

__It was bitter outside now that it was fully night. It had stopped snowing and the sky was clear, stars scattered messily across that expanse of black above. Dean gazed up at them accusingly, daring them to fall on him. He shook off the thought; that wasn’t what this was about. Not some battle with the darkness, with creatures of the night. This was trying to find something lost. Maybe. Just buried, hopefully. Did he even dare to hope these days?_ _

__He stomped across the driveway to the field beyond, a snowy sheet laid out beneath the cover of night. It was crunchy and flaked beneath his boots, but was still soft and deep despite being from the earlier storm. It wasn’t too hard to find a suitable spot; out in the open on what seemed like a flat area of the field. Dean lay down carefully, not relishing the feel of the cold wetness seeping in his neck line and down his back. He quickly began flapping his arms and legs up and down rapidly, trying to get warm from the movement as much as to create the outline in the snow around him. It was easy enough to do and soon he was standing looking down at a snow angel that he’d once again made. Nothing special about it, really. Just a weird outline on the ground. He stood staring at it blankly. What had he honestly been expecting? A moment of epiphany? A fountain of youth? An angel to appear before him? One not made of snow, of course. He laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of it all._ _

__“Hello, Dean.”_ _

__He froze. It was like the burn of whisky as it first hit the back of your throat, that voice. Not that he’d known to identify it as that when he was a kid. He closed his eyes, trying to picture the man who spoke like that. “Castiel.”_ _

__He didn’t flinch when he felt the hand on his shoulder, still large, despite him being a grown man now, and let himself be turned slowly around by it._ _

__He took a deep inhale of icy air and opened his eyes, still not really believing that he would see anything other than the snowy fields stretched before him. But there he was. Exactly as Dean had remembered him; the mussed hair, the chapped lips, the tan coat. And the eyes. That insane shade of blue that seemed to shine from within despite the darkness. He was there, standing right in front of him._ _

__Dean reached out, needing to know that he was real and not just his tired brain royally fucking with him. His hand settled on Castiel’s shoulder and felt the smooth fabric of the coat, slid down his arm and felt the muscles bunch almost imperceptibly at the touch, met the warm skin of his hand and was suddenly pulling the angel forward to him, wrapping both arms around him in a solid hug. He felt the angel’s arms enclose him and draw him in tight._ _

__“C– C– Cas–“ Dean buried his face into Castiel’s shoulder, biting back sobs. He shook silently, letting himself be held for a moment before he lifted his head. “Where were you? I prayed, Castiel. I prayed to you every night, and you never came. I stopped believing.”_ _

__“No, Dean. You always knew. You didn’t always want to let yourself, but when you were willing to give yourself that hope, you knew.”_ _

__“But why didn’t you come?”_ _

__“You didn’t ask me to.”_ _

__“I prayed! Goddammit, Cas. I prayed.”_ _

__“And I heard, Dean. Every prayer. Every night. I thought I might go mad from them sometimes. But you didn’t ask. Not until now.”_ _

__“You mean, this?” Dean turned gesturing to the outline in the snow behind him. “A fucking snow angel is how I had to ask?”_ _

__“No, Dean. Not the snow angel, though I appreciate the gesture. This.” Castiel lifted his hand up and set it over Dean’s heart. “This is what allowed me to come to you.”_ _

__Dean shook his head, not understanding. “So now what? You whisk us off to some dive bar and we spend the night watching a bad cover band, then you leave before the sun comes up?”_ _

__“Is that what you want?”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__“What do you want, Dean?”_ _

__“I want you to stay, goddammit. I want to talk, I want to know you, not just in my memory. For you to know me, as an adult. I want you to meet Sammy, to get to know him. I want you to ride in my car, eat burgers and pie, go to bars together, get drunk. You could come on hunts with us. Hang out at the Bunker. Watch Netflix. I like who I am when I think about being with you. You make me feel brave, worthy. You make me feel safe. I want to feel those things. I want it to be real, Cas. I want for you to be real. To really be real. And to stay.”_ _

__“Okay.”_ _

__“Okay?”_ _

__“If that’s what you want, then okay. I’ll stay.”_ _

__“Just like that?”_ _

__“Yes, Dean. Just like that.”_ _

__They stood, looking at each other in the darkness, relearning. Dean shivered._ _

__“Would you like my coat, Dean?”_ _

__“Hell no! No offense, Cas, but that thing is Fugly. If you really are staying, we might need to start by finding you a better wardrobe.”_ _

__“I really am staying. But wouldn’t it be sensible for me to acquire some clothes before needing to upgrade the storage for them?”_ _

__“Exactly. We’ll buy some new clothes for you. Something you can relax in.”_ _

__“It’s quite late already, Dean. And I believe shops close early on Christmas Eve. Is anywhere going to be open at this point?”_ _

__“Not now, Cas! Tomorrow, we’ll get started on that tomorrow.”_ _

__“On Christmas day?”_ _

__“Or the next day. Or whenever. The point is, we’ve got time, right? Right now, we should go in and introduce you to Sammy. Show him my Christmas miracle.”_ _

__“Yes, we have time. Though I guarantee, there is nothing especially miraculous about my being here on this particular day of the year. It was simply your being willing to accept me.”_ _

__“Well, it feels pretty miraculous to me.” Dean clapped him on the back and left his arm draped across the expanse of his shoulders. “Come on, let’s go see Sam.” He looked over at the man next to him, the angel, and was met by moonlight gazing back at him._ _

__“I like this.” Castiel smiled._ _

__“Yeah, me too. I think tomorrow’s going to be the first Merry Christmas that I’ve ever had.”_ _

__“The first? Our last together held no merriment?”_ _

__“Don’t get me wrong, Cas, that Christmas Eve was great and all. Not so much the morning after. So no. Not a Merry Christmas.”_ _

__“Ah. I see.”_ _

__“So no morning afters this time, okay?”_ _

__“We won’t have a morning?” Cas did that puzzled head tilt of his as he asked the question._ _

__“Yes, but it won’t be a morning _after_ Just merry.”_ _

__“We’ll be merry together in the morning.”_ _

__“All day. Together.”_ _

__“Yes, Dean. Together. In the morning, and afternoon, and evening. For as long as you wish.”_ _

__“I wish.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> Watching _The Snowman_ has been a Christmas ritual for me for as long as I can remember. It was always on telly on Christmas afternoon in England, so it was one of those things that we'd all sit and watch together as a family. Now I watch it as an adult with my own child. This story is sort of a reflection of that experience; being an adult but so clearly remembering the powerful emotions that significant experiences from when we were young inspired.
> 
> A big thank you to [SPNgreeneyes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SPNgreeneyes/pseuds/SPNgreeneyes), who appeared like a fairy godmother and performed magic on my first draft! I could not have asked for a better Beta fairy to swoop in and help me clean things up.
> 
> Likewise a huge thank you to the Holiday Mixtape challenge mods, who did a wonderful job of making this whole process easy, enjoyable and a very positive first challenge. You guys are truly wonderful human beings for facilitating such a delightful collection of writing and art.


End file.
